


fingers slip and, trip over

by hrtbnr (kiden)



Category: The Creatures | Cow Chop RPF
Genre: Dark, Fake Chop, M/M, Off Screen Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 13:38:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14749895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiden/pseuds/hrtbnr
Summary: It’s four or five in the morning when James comes home. He peels off his gloves and hoodie and shirt and there’s blood on his forearms, his knuckles, splattered on the side of his neck.





	fingers slip and, trip over

**Author's Note:**

> hello friends there is sex and violence in this please don't read it

It’s four or five in the morning when James comes home. Those are the quietest hours in Los Santos, the streets dead except for a few drunks still staggering out from the bars. It’s before the bustle starts up, early morning commuters stopping to grab coffees and bagels before they miss their bus or train. It’s that in-between time when James comes home, locks the door behind him and doesn’t even notice Aleks on the couch as he makes his way to wash up in the kitchen. 

They always keep a light on in the kitchen - Ein has a habit of lying spread out on the floor to cool her belly and Aleks has a habit of  _ tripping over her  _ when he’s half asleep - and that’s how he sees the blood. James peels off his gloves and hoodie and shirt and there’s blood on his forearms, his knuckles, splattered on the side of his neck.

The blood on his hands is his own, probably. The rest of it, well, Aleks can make a few educated guesses. 

Aleks watches him for a while and god-fucking-damn it he looks  _ good _ . His hair is still in a bun but it’s fucked up from wearing a hat, loose strands that aren’t flyaways are plastered against his face with sweat. It’s not until he unties the bandana from around his neck that Aleks notices that’s covered in blood too, and at one point must’ve been up around his nose and mouth.  Maybe there’s a bruise about to bloom on his jaw, but Aleks can’t see it well enough in the dark and through his beard. 

A warm, familiar ache settles in Alek’s gut and spreads down.  And he needs to say something, or cough, or shift the blankets around,  _ something _ so that James knows he's there, but he can’t.  Doesn’t get the chance to before James curses under his breath, wiping his wet hands on his jeans before answering his phone.  

Just by the way he’s talking Aleks knows it’s Brett on the phone.  His answers are short and a little clipped -  _ yeah, home, everything’s fine, took care of it, thanks, yeah, well they deserved it didn’t they?, yeah, later man -  _ and when he ends the call he tosses his phone on the counter and gets back to washing the dried blood off his arms.

When Aleks moves the blankets off, the way his muscles stretch, he can feel the lingering pain of the bruises on his back and ribs.  He knows where James was tonight, James  _ and  _ Brett, and knows the cops that gave him those bruises won’t be using their hands for a long, long time.  By the amount of blood on James, Aleks would guess they won’t be doing much of anything at all.

Ein’s upstairs on the bed sleeping, but Mishka is curled by Aleks’ feet on the sofa, and his movements wake her up.  She yawns, stretching her front paws out, then hops off the couch, her big fluffy tail wagging as she sleepy makes her way over to James. It takes him a minute to acknowledge her; it’s not until he’s clean that he squats down to pet her, cooing softly as he scratches behind her ears.

“I thought you’d be sleeping,” he says, and her tail wags harder at the sound of his voice. 

“I was,” Aleks answers, leaning against the arm of the couch, his head pillowed on his hands.  “Fell asleep watching infomercials.” 

James chuckles, standing and scooping up Mishka, still giving her little scratches on the top of her head. “Why do you  _ love  _ that shit?” 

“Because I, too, have problems doing simple household chores.” 

“That’s because you’re a lazy, spoiled piece of shit, and not because your incompetent.” 

Maybe Aleks would have something to say about that assessment, at any other time, but there’s no use arguing.  James is half right, half an asshole, and anyway there are other things on Aleks’ mind besides James pretending he doesn’t love infomercials too. As if they don’t have an entire closet packed with As Seen On TV bullshit.

James carefully puts down Mishka and shoos her up a few stairs before locking the puppy gate, and Aleks gets up, kneeling on the couch, as he then makes his way over. The light from the kitchen casts a soft yellow glow across James’ face and chest, makes the shadows under his eyes and at the hollow of his throat a little darker. There’s no blood on him anymore, but Aleks knows it was there, knows why, and it satisfies something vindictive and hungry inside him.

James comes close enough to touch but doesn’t, instead waits for Aleks to close the distance between them. He slides his hands up James’ arms, across his shoulders, and ghosts his lips up his neck, stretching to kiss sweetly at the corner of his mouth. 

Aleks is focused there, on his lips, when James says, “You know where I was?” 

Between kisses, Aleks says, “Pretty sure, yeah.” 

At the same moment James opens his mouth, he slides his hand up the back of Aleks’ tank top and brushes against the places that are bruised. It’s not an entirely gentle touch, and Aleks hisses a bit, but grabs James’ shoulder and the back of his neck to deepen the kiss.  Against Aleks’ mouth he mumbles something that sounds like  _ good _ , and kisses Aleks so hard, holding him so tightly, it feels  _ angry.  _

“What’d you do?” James breaks away to bury his face in Aleks’ shoulder, and groans when Aleks wraps his arms around him, holding him close as he lets down his hair.  Aleks asks again, whispers it against the side of James’ head, “What’d you do, baby?”

With a groan, James rolls onto the couch, taking Aleks with him until he’s straddled across his lap. His long fingers curl around Aleks’ hips tightly, and he says, “Took their hands.” 

Aleks laughs, a surprise burst through his closed mouth, and James grins up at him with a stupid, goofy look on his face. “Get the fuck out of here, dude. That’s dark as shit. No way you did that.” 

The smile James is directing at him doesn’t leave but his eyes are darker, suddenly more serious, and Aleks lets out a breath, all the air knocked out of him under that look.

“Jesus fucking Christ. That’s -.”

“Touch what’s mine, dude, they’re gonna lose hands.”

“I don’t know if I’m horrified or turned on or fucking  _ what _ . James, that’s -.”

“You’re turned on.”

“You’re goddamn right I am,” Aleks says, and twists both his hands in James’ hair. “I mean, shit, I don’t know how I feel full-time about you like,”

“They beat the shit out of you.” 

“They were  _ cops,  _ James.” 

“How bad do you want to fuck me right now? One to ten.”

“Ballpark?  _ Fifteen, twenty.”  _ Aleks falls forward, his hands going to the waist of James’ jeans and working open the button and zipper. “There’s lube in the -.”

“I know,” James says, and pushes Aleks away gently. “Take your clothes off.” 

There’s a frenzy of movement and clothes being tossed and they’re moving quick but  _ not quick enough.  _ It’s not until Aleks is back in James’ lap, head resting on his shoulder, moaning as he takes two, three fingers that everything slows down to a somewhat manageable pace. But just barely. 

A handful of days ago four cops roughed him up, just because they could, because they recognized his hair and jacket and face, and wanted to  _ send a message.  _ And tonight James collected Brett, went and found them, and  _ cut their fucking hands off.  _

James curls his fingers, stretching and rubbing against Aleks’ prostate until he shakes, and says, “You think they got  _ my  _ message?”

“Oh, God, shut up?  _ Shut up. _ ”

Aleks leans away, James’ hand on his back to keep him steady as he reaches to take his dick, lining them up and pushing down until he’s seated fully in James’ lap. The stretch burns, but only a little, and anyway, Aleks always liked that part.  The way James fills him up, their bodies pressed together, panting heavily in the same air. Aleks holds tightly onto James’ hair, right at his scalp, and starts to move. Rocking forward and snapping his hips back, his toes curling and digging into the couch as hard as James’ fingers on his waist.

They’ve built up a good momentum when James slides his right hand up Aleks’ back and grabs a hold of his hair and  _ yanks _ , moving forward at the same moment to suck and kiss at his neck.  It’s dumb and possessive, like saying,  _ they touched what’s mine,  _ and Aleks hates it as much as he fucking loves it, scrambles to hold on to James’ shoulders for the leverage to move faster. He doesn’t  _ need  _ James to feel this way, to do these things, but it makes him feel crazy and wanted and  _ adored  _ in a dark way that feeds at something dangerous inside him. 

It’s power to have James’ love this way.  Violent and bloody and terrifying as much as it can feel tender and safe.  To not have to wonder what James would do for him, because he  _ knows. _

James falls back against the couch and takes one of Aleks’ hands, brings it to his own dick, and says, “Touch yourself. C’mon.”

Aleks does as he’s told, bracing his free hand against James’ chest as he jerks himself off, riding him hard and fast, rolling his hips and grinding down to get him deeper.  With a broken, breathless grunt that means he’s close, James gathers Aleks’ in his arms again and lifts him, pushing forward and brushing clean the coffee table before dropping Aleks on it.  There’s only a moment for him to get his bearings before James hooks Aleks’ knees around his elbows and covers him with his body, folding him in half and holding him open. 

James kisses him and keeps kissing him as his thrusts pick up speed, fucking into him roughly, until they’re both moaning into each other’s open mouths.  Between James’ cock inside him and his own hand still working between them, Aleks shakes, throwing his head back as he whines, James’ mouth on his neck, shoulder, teeth scraping along his heated skin, and he gasps for breath, flying apart as he spills hot and wet between them.

“You’re fucking - you’re so fucking -.” 

Whatever James was going to say he never gets there.  Instead he pulls Aleks up to get an arm around his shoulders then presses him back against the table, holding him still and pliant as he chases his own release.  Aleks pets his arms and back, reaches down to dig his fingers into James’ thighs, too spent to do anything else. 

“C’mon,” James pushes his face against Aleks’ shoulder, panting heavy and erratically, “come on, James.”

“Oh,  _ fuck,”  _ James gasps hoarsely. He falls back on his knees between the coffee table and the couch, bringing Aleks’ with him, keeping him on his dick as he comes, his entire body trembling. Both of them jerking through little aftershock earthquakes. 

James pulls away so they can look at each other; his eyes are wide and wild and he licks his dry lips, his chest heaving, hair everywhere, and Aleks takes his mouth, fast and dirty, James’ cock still twitching inside him.  And he was right, of course,  _ of course  _ he was right.  Aleks belongs to him and it goes both ways. There’s them, and then there’s  _ everything else.  _

After a few moments, after the kiss ends, Aleks rests his forehead on James’ shoulder and he wraps around him just the same, both of them just catching their breath.  The way James holds him is softer now, his hands still shaking as they move up and down Aleks’ back. Aleks can’t say thank you for what James did for him, that horrific fucking thing that James did, because he wouldn’t want to hear it.  But he kisses his sweaty skin and rubs his nose against James’ neck, and knows that James hears him. Because James is always listening. 

Carefully Aleks climbs out of James’ lap - he needs to get cleaned up, and they need to start a wash for James’ bloody clothes - but James is reluctant to let him go, holds on to his hip, then his arm, and finally his hand, as Aleks tries to move away from him, lacing their fingers together.  Aleks brings James’ hand to his mouth and kisses it. 

From the stairs, Mishka barks, followed by a little whine from Ein, and it’s so startling in the quiet between them that Aleks laughs. 

“The sun’s coming up,” James says. “Let’s take the dogs out.  Grab breakfast.” 

“You’re fucking terrifying, you know that, right?” 

James gives him a long, even look, meant to remind Aleks of all the horrible, fucked-up shit he’s done too. It works, and Aleks rolls his eyes. “What does that make you?” 

“An accomplice,” he says, and grabs the blanket off the couch to wrap around himself as he goes to open the puppy gate. “And yours.” 

“Goddamn right.” 


End file.
